With Eyes That Know the Darkness in My Soul
by nachalainne
Summary: The Marauders start school at Hogwarts, and Remus is nervous about his new housemates. He's afraid to get too close, in case they get suspicious about his quirky behavior, but they won't let him keep away.


The normally-loud Great Hall was silent, hundreds of faces turned towards the little three-legged stool at the front of the room as everyone waited with baited breath for the Sorting Hat's announcement. The little eleven-year old in question sat still, with the Hat over his eyes it was impossible to see his face, but underneath his expression was one of intense boredom. After a long pause, a rip opened up near the brim, forming a long, cloth mouth and the ratty, old hat shouted: "Gryffindor!"

There was very little applause.

Sirius didn't care – if anything he could have rolled his eyes. Personally, he was thrilled not to have been put in Slytherin like that stupid hat had been suggesting for the last three minutes. Honestly, he hated his family and everything about them, why in Merlin's name would he want to follow them in school? As he walked down the aisle to his new table, a few faces followed him – disinterested in the new names Professor McGonagall was calling to come forward. Whispers followed him; a few of the Slytherins even glared – not because he was a Gryffindor, but because he was a Black in the house of Gryffindor: it was positively unheard of. Even his cousin Andromeda had been a Ravenclaw, at least; something still worthy of the Slytherins' respect. To be sorted into Gryffindor with his name, however, was like spitting on the graves of his ancestors – and deep down, Sirius loved it.

Instead of sitting in the crowd of students who had stared, rather than applauded for him, he moved to the far end of the table, where all the seats were empty and sat down. He looked up to the professor's table in time to see a small, sandy-haired boy who looked as if he was going to be ill trip across the stage. He smirked, and assumed the poor, little dunce would be sorted into Hufflepuff: the house of losers and everyone too socially-awkward to fit in elsewhere.

The hat proved him wrong: "Gryffindor!" It cried out again. Sirius's eyes widened slightly. Clearly the hat had spent too much time with that nutter, Dumbledore, it was beginning to lose its… did the Sorting Hat even have a mind? It must have to be able to think logically – not that its decisions today were very logical. He snorted.

Remus Lupin, the boy from the stage came down the same aisle Sirius had sauntered down, hands at his sides and his feet focused on the floor. He didn't really want to sit near the black-haired boy who'd been sorted here first, but the hat hadn't given him much of a choice, and he didn't want to intrude on anyone else by sitting further up the table. Circling around, he sat on the opposite side, closest to the wall, and kept his head down, not speaking.

Still – he could feel the black haired boy's eyes on him, and in silence he wished dearly that he'd been paying more attention to the names as they were called. What was it – some kind of colour? Of course, Black – his name was black, the same colour as his hair, he'd mused, when he'd first seen Sirius take the stage. He'd been very confident, Remus noticed, something the smaller, peakier boy had never in his life managed.

"Well, out with it, what's your name, then?" Sirius drawled, unable to rid himself of the haughty tone that had been bred into him by his family.

Remus looked up, startled. "Sorry?" He hadn't expected him to speak, much less take any interest in him – it put him on edge.

"I asked for your name."

"Lupin," he answered automatically, wincing at the other boy's tone.

"Lupin… that's like a wolf, isn't it? Lupine." Sirius snorted. "Got a first name, wolf boy?"

Remus was shaking from head to toe. How did he—he couldn't. No one knew, Dumbledore promised him that no one would know! Had he told the entire school? This was a disaster, as soon as this ridiculous meal was over, he was going to write his mother and insist she let him come home. He never should've—but wait, Sirius was still watching him expectantly. Swallowing hard, he answered.

"R-remus…. Remus Lupin." He fought of the urge to chew on the inside of his lip. "An-nd, yes… l-like a wolf." He watched, waiting with baited breath for the other boy to stand up, hollering his secret to the whole world. No one would ever speak to him again.

Instead, Sirius did something Remus found positively miraculous. He reached across the table – Remus flinched – and proffered his hand. "Black comma Sirius," he said quite plainly, still convinced this nervous, little boy should've been chucked headfirst onto the Hufflepuff table. Maybe Lupin was too nervous for the Hufflepuffs – they seemed to require a largely chipper personality, something he was quite lacking.

It took Remus a moment to react, but he finally found himself long enough to reach out, taking Sirius's hand lightly and giving it a weak shake. "Nice to meet you," he added – almost as an afterthought. Why wasn't he afraid? If hew knew his secret, he should've run away, warning the others to do the same. Sirius gripped his hand more firmly, still exuding confidence as he shook more purposefully before letting go.

He must not know. As Sirius's hand left him, Remus looked around, noticing that not a person in the room other than Sirius was paying him any mind, and even he wasn't really paying attention anymore. His focus had shifted to the empty plates in front of them, and his expression had twisted into a scowl. "Bloody sorting takes forever, doesn't it?"

"Oh, Merlin, yes!"

Remus jumped again. Another boy, much rounder than either of them with flat, blond hair had dropped onto the bench next to him. "I'm starving!" he piped, staring at the plates with wide, baleful eyes, as if begging food to appear.

Sirius snorted again, wondering if he'd sat down at the wrong table by mistake. Turning, he looked over at the Slytherins, who were jeering and laughing amongst themselves. Next to them were Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff, and then Gryffindor. The founders had made a wise decision in putting the two other tables in between his and the Slytherins'. No one needed their breakfasts or feasting interrupted by food fights and brawls. Well, at least not every day.

Turning to the newer boy, Sirius looked him up and down. "Sorry, Hufflepuff is that table," he pointed over his shoulder to the table behind him. The chubby boy flushed pink as Sirius spoke to him. He opened his mouth to reply, and stammered.

Another voice answered for him. "Good thing too, since he's a Gryffindor."

The three boys looked, Sirius turning to stare at the lean, scrawny boy standing next to him. He had spiky, black hair that stood up at odd angles, as if he'd just recently crawled out of bed. A sneer crept across Sirius's face. "And you are?" he added, keeping his tone cool.

"James Potter," the boy answered, sitting down beside him. "Also of Gryffindor." Sirius groaned inwardly – this was clearly the worst house in history. Not even the girls were cute. The spiky-haired boy continued. "Black, isn't it? Doesn't your lot usually belong over there?" He nodded his head in the direction of the Slytherin table.

"You assume I belong with that lot." Sirius replied, distinctly frostier than the first time he'd answered. Across the table, Remus watched the pair nervously. It was a clash of ego, and tension was mounting. Next to him, the chubby boy had lowered his face to his plate and was pleading it to feed him.

"Well, don't you?" James asked, clearly challenging him.

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of the chubby boy squealing loudly. All of Gryffindor table looked down at the four of them, and the poor, little boy whose face was resting in a plate of potatoes. The food had arrived while James and Sirius were arguing, and apparently someone in the kitchens had taken pity on him, sending him the food he was begging for directly.

Sitting up, he looked at them, face covered in a mushy, white mask.

Sirius and James exchanged looks before dissolving into hysterical laughter, closely followed by the rest of their table, and then the chubby boy – who later introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew. With a slight sigh, Remus helped himself to some of the shepherd's pie. The potato-face incident had apparently been enough to settle the dispute between James and Sirius, as they were animatedly discussing favourite Quidditch teams together, as if they'd been best friends all along. Peter seemed utterly satisfied with his food, leaving Remus to his thoughts as he ate in silence.

This was certainly going to be an interesting year, and as he looked between his companions – he couldn't resist a small smile. He was, at this moment, fairly certain he would enjoy it.


End file.
